Unseeing eyes
by silentreadergil
Summary: On Hold - Following books until after HBP, goes diffenrently from there, though still refering on occations - after the war, Draco is blinded, Harry back in Hogwarts to teach, both have issues to deal with, eventually H/D slash
1. Prologue

_Prologue:_

"You _traitor!_! ", a woman's voice screeched high and angrily.

She was standing in a clearing in a dark forest, a group of four hooded figures in coats that hid everything apart from their height behind her and a young man with platinum blond hair in front of her.

She must have been hooded, too. But in her fury she had flung it back and now her long, black hair was ruffled by the wind.

"So now, you know." the young man said matter-of-factly and smirked slightly although his face looked drained. There had been times when there was more energy, more mocking in his silver-grey eyes, but now there was an all-time wariness in them. He had seen too much evil in the last seven years, partly also committed by himself, and had enough. He wouldn't run away. Not this time. Not anymore.

"You admit it?" a deep man's voice boomed from one of the figures to the left of the black-haired woman, "Although you know the consequences?"

The blond haired turned towards the speaker and answered casually. "Yes, McNair, I admit it. You already knew, so why are you all so astonished?"

The woman growled in fury and drew her wand pointing the tip towards the blonds face.

"How could you? How could you do this to the Dark Lord?! It's a shame. A downright _shame! _My own flesh and blood!"

Now the man smiled really mockingly. "Oh, Aunt Bella, don't get sensitive. He's gone and this time he really won't come back. Get over it."

The black haired woman growled again and was about to flash her wand at him when one of the figures which had held back until now, stopped her by putting a small hand on her shoulder.

"Wait, Bellatrix, don't kill him. He has to suffer for the things he has done."

It was a woman's voice that had spoken and as she unhooded herself, a pointy face with short black hair could be seen. She was about the same age as the young blond.

It was now at him to gasp in surprise.

"Pansy? Pansy Parkinson?"

"Yes, Draco, nice to see you, too." she smiled at him mockingly. Then she turned towards the others.

"I know you want to kill him. – so do I – But just use Avada Kedavra on him would be too good. I know something much better."

The others seemed to think over the idea and even the fury in Bellatrix' face faded and was replaced with pure malice.

"What do you suggest?" she asked.

"We blind him." Pansy said with an evil grin on her face. "And leave him here. Either he will die here of hunger, or somewhere else. It doesn't really matter. What matters is that he will lose what is left of his pride and we all know how much Malfoys cling to _that. _He will _suffer_."

And before Draco had the chance to react, she whirled around, a red light flashing from her wand and hitting him right in the face.

There was pain, pain everywhere and his knees buckled under his weight. He fell on his right side, his hands covering his eyes where all the pain seemed to erupt from. He bit his lips until they bled to stop himself from crying out loud and his body shivered.

And then the pain was gone.

"You're sure, it worked? He didn't even scream." His aunt's voice came from directly above him and he realized that she had come towards him unnoticed while he was shaking in pain.

"Of course it worked, Bella." This was Pansy's voice and it was slowly coming nearer. "Can't you see that he's trying to figure things out? And, by the way, you should know that Malfoys never scream."

She now was directly beside him, too, and lowered herself near his face. Almost gently she took his hands and uncovered his eyes. They were still squeezed shut tightly.

"Just for you to know, Draco dear," she said maliciously, "the spell is irreversible."

She laughed softly at the slight shiver of his body he couldn't quite mask. One more time gently touching his face, she stood up.

"Farewell, Draco. We will never see each other again. …or at least, you won't." Now laughing loudly she left the clearing with the POPP! of an apparation the others following slowly, chuckling slightly or mumbling things like "See you." in his direction.

Only after he had heard the last one apparate, Draco Malfoy dared to open his eyes.

All he could see was darkness.

He lay still on his side for some moments only realizing that he cried when a teardrop fell onto his hand. He didn't stop them even though there lay no comfort in them. He simply wasn't able to. It took him minutes until he got his body once again under control and the tears ceased. Slowly he sat up his eyes wide open. But still everything was black around him.

A soft rustling to his left let him jump. He couldn't stay here. Who knew which creatures were living in the forest around him. He had come to this clearing to face death. But now he surely wouldn't do his aunt or Pansy the favour and die here right on the spot. No, he wouldn't. Not anymore.

Luckily they had left him his wand and so he apparated to the only place which could protect him right now, the only place he had clear enough in his mind to apparate to blindly. The place he had abandoned seven years ago.

He closed his eyes and apparated to the gates of Hogwarts.


	2. Chapter 1

_Author's notes:_

_I started this fic sometime after HBP and have been writing at it (more or less) since then. In my fictional world, it took Harry seven years to destroy all hocruxes, and Voldemort about the same time to gather his forces. Still I tried to fit in some facts from the seventh book._

_This is pre-war, so Voldemort is defeated. Definitely. There are enough other things to deal with._

_Thanks go, as always to my lovely Numair, who reads this even if she hates slash. *hugs*_

_Disclaimer: as always: not mine, but JKR's and her various publishers._

_Chapter 1_

It was late a day in the middle of August and it seemed that Britain's summer wanted to show its best side. The sun enlightened the Hogwarts grounds and clearly marked out the shadow of a lonesome figure that was wandering towards the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

The man's black hair was touched with some grey and his face already showed some lines. For the 23 years Harry Potter actually was, he looked much too old. There was a second scar on his face now, apart from the one that had made him famous as a child. It was about a thumb wide and run from his left temple down the side of his face to the middle of the cheek. It was still angry red against his skin. His green eyes, which were as always hidden behind round glasses, bore a tiredness and sadness that one could only get by fighting in a war. And fought they had. And now it was over.

The war was over and Harry Potter was no longer known as the "Boy-Who-Lived" but the "Man-Who-Defeated-You-Know-Who". He kicked the grass in frustration. _You should think that they could now dare to say his name aloud. _But they didn't.

Instead, just like the last time people were having parties so that the ministry – or what was left of it – had problems to cover all the magic from of the muggles. There were magical fireworks over London, trees glittering in all colours of the rainbow up in York, and many more owls than the (non-magical) world had ever seen before – and that for five weeks now.

The people thought that now no dark force would ever disturb their lives again.

_You should think, that they had learned from last time._

His feet had carried him to the edge of the forbidden forest and with a sight Harry let himself drop to the ground, his back against a tree trunk and his head facing the Hogwarts-building. From his point of view he could easily make out the Gryffindor tower and even the window of the dormitory he had spent six years of his life in. And now he would spend more time in Hogwarts, perhaps even the rest of his damned life as they had asked him to be the next Defence Against the Dark Arts-Teacher. And he had said yes.

_What else could you have done? They expected you to do the job. – That's why I should have said no. – But you didn't. – No, I didn't. _And in less than a month the school would be opened again and he would start teaching.

He sighted again, his hand raising to his breast-pocket in an unconscious gesture and pulling out a sheet of paper. He unfolded it, his eyes scanning the lines without really seeing them. It didn't matter anyway. He had read it about a million times and could have read it with closed eyes.

Having stared at it for some time he carefully folded it again and put it back to its usual place while his mind wandered into the past, remembering all the desperation and fear of the past seven years when he was hunting hocruxes until the very end when he thought he'd die.

From the outside nobody would have guessed his dark thoughts, as he kept his face blank. Only a small line between his eyebrows might have given some clue, but this wrinkle was constantly seen on his face these days.

Of course, for most of the time Harry was grateful for being alive. Other times he wasn't. He thought of his friends and the line grew deeper. Quickly he forced his mind away from the abyss that was following these thoughts.

Perhaps this was another reason why he had accepted the position as DADA-teacher. He was safe there from any sight which might remind him how much the war had destroyed.

As the sun began to sink below the trees, Harry got up again.

Still he didn't feel like going into the empty halls of the school. So instead he strode further along the Forbidden Forest and soon found himself at the Gates of Hogwarts. Those, too, bore signs of the war. The metal was deformed and when Harry reached out with his magic, he could feel the tiny lines and holes that one of the biggest attacks of the war had left there. Still the wards had held and Hogwarts had once again proven that it was one of the safest places in the whole wizarding world. And afterwards they had opened the gates once again as a sign of peace.

Having stared at the metal bars for quite some time, Harry turned to finally go back into the castle when the sharp crack of an apparation made him swirl around his wand drawn out in an instant. Reflexes don't wash away that easily.

Draco Malfoy had appeared directly in front of him. The Deatheater's clothes looked ragged and dirty, his hair was ruffled and there were leaves in it. In his whole life Harry had never seen the other man so out of shape.

_Hell, even after Quidditch his hair had never been unruly. _

The other man didn't seem to notice that he was standing directly in front of Harry Potter, even though he was practically looking at his feet. Unsure of what to say the black haired man shuffled slightly.

At this little sound Malfoy's head snapped up and he looked around hectically his eyes wide open in search of the sound's source.

_What's the meaning of this? _

The curiousness overwhelmed even the anger, Harry normally felt near the former Slytherin. No longer able to hold back, he called out.

"Malfoy?"

The blond's head snapped in Harry's direction, and though he now looked directly at Harry's face his eyes were still unseeing.

"Potter?!" Draco Malfoy asked, his voice almost breaking.

He couldn't exactly tell why he knew who was in front of him as everything was still completely black, but that one word had been enough to make him sure that it was his former archenemy who had found him in this helpless state. He groaned. _Great! As if he hadn't had enough bad luck for one day!_

But then his knees gave in and he was sinking to the ground in slow motion without any chance to prevent it on his own.

Immediately he felt two strong arms hold him and clawed into them knowing quite well that he would fall flat onto his face if he did not.

A whispered "Help me!" was everything he could say before he got unconscious.

Harry didn't know why he held him, perhaps it was another of these damn reflexes, but he did so and caught the other man when he stumbled.

Just as he thought about it again and was about to let go, Malfoy looked up to him, his eyes looking somewhere near his chin and spoke the two words Harry had never ever expected to come from a Malfoy's mouth. The voice was raw. Surely Malfoy wouldn't have asked anybody, let alone Harry Potter, for help when he wasn't completely desperate.

_Damn._

Harry heaved the unconscious body of the other man on his shoulders and began to walk towards the castle, his steps heavy under his burden. After four meters he stopped though and laid Draco Malfoy carefully to the ground to take out his wand and levitate the other man further, swearing under his breath for not thinking of the spell earlier.

He reached the hospital wing soon enough and carefully placed his burden onto the nearest bed.

It was only then that he realized that Mme Pomfrey wasn't there and wouldn't be there any time soon. With so many insured from the last battle and having nothing to do while summer-holidays, the medi-witch had taken it as her duty to help her colleagues at 's hospital. In fact, at the moment, Harry was the only human being on the grounds of Hogwarts, well at least the only conscious one.

Malfoy groaned in his sleep and began to toss around on the bed. Still he didn't look like waking up. Frantically Harry searched the little he knew about magic healing for help, but as he stood in front of the drawer with dozens of flasks blinking at him, he was too scared to grab the wrong.

He couldn't stand to be responsible for another death, even if it was his former archenemy he was talking about. So he closed the drawer again, and went to the nearest fireplace.

On his way, he stopped at Malfoy's bed and reached out but didn't quite touch the slightly shivering form. Quietly and probably more to sooth himself, he said: "Don't worry, I'm going to fetch help!"

When he firecalled 's a young receptionist immediately recognized him.

"Mr. Potter! What can I do for you? Do you want to speak to your friend? Should I go and fetch her for you? She is still with Mr. W..."

"No, thank you." Harry quickly interrupted her. "But if you would be so kind and ask Madam Pomfrey to come over?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter." The receptionist chirruped and was gone before Harry could add "Only if she has time, that is."

He only had to stay waiting for few minutes, before the sound of running feet announced the arrival of Hogwarts' current medi-witch. The young receptionist arrived out of breath a little later.

"Mr. Potter!" The nurse's energical voice brought back the memories of his school time and the dozens of times he had spent at the hospital wing.

"What did you do this time? Do you bleed? Any bones broken or vanished?" Madam Pomfrey was about to reach in the flames to check his eyes, when the heat and Harry stopped her.

"No, Madam Pomfrey. It's not me. Someone else got hurt."

She looked as if asking, who the hell he found in an empty school, to duel with, so he added a little louder.

"Please, Madam. Can't you just come over and tell what I can do to help him?"

At his pleading look the witch's eyes became soft.

"All right Mr. Potter, step aside, I'm coming over to have a look." Then she turned to the receptionist who had followed the conversation silently, "Cassy, please tell Mr. Felincus that I'll be back soon."

The answer, if there was any, Harry didn't hear, because he had taken his head out of the fire. He stood up and brushed the ash out of his black hair, then he once again neared the bed in which Malfoy was lying, only that now he lay entirely still. Hadn't it been for the shallow up and down of the thorax, he would have feared that he was too late.

The fire roared once and with a swoosh Madam Pomfrey arrived at the hospital wing. Scourifying her clothes, she came over to where Harry stood and nearly let her wand drop, when she saw, who was lying on the bed.

"M-Mr. Potter! That...that is..." But then her medi-instincts kicked in and she pierced him with a look. "What did you do to him this time, prey, tell me!"

"I didn't do anything!" Harry said defensively. "I was at the gates, when he suddenly appareted directly in front of me. He fell unconscious and I levitated him here. Oh, and I think he couldn't see me, because though he was looking at me his eyes didn't focus."

"You didn't wear that cloak of yours, did you?"

"No!"

"Only asking. Well now let's see..."

She then turned her focus entirely on her patient, murmuring spells and ignoring Harry completely, who stood next to her looking the most helpful he could.

When she had finished her examination she turned to Harry, and her expression was serious.

"It seems that Mr. Malfoy was hit by some sort of spell. I could trace some remains of it on his face. Apparently this spell cut all nerves for sight. Mr. Malfoy is now blind. All other symptoms are those of pure exhaustion. This will be cured with sleep. But I can't help him with his eyes. I never felt a spell like this, I haven't even heard of a spell like that. Maybe one of my colleagues has, but I don't put my hopes on it."

She looked at Harry sternly as if waiting for him to mock Malfoy. But he didn't. He even felt a little relieved, that the other wizard wasn't going to die here and now. And he felt something close to pity. He wanted to do something for Malfoy, he wanted to...

"How can I help?"

The witch's expression softened and she almost smiled at Harry.

"There isn't much you can do, Mr. Potter. He needs rest now. You could stay near and look that he doesn't hurt himself when he wakes up. I'll give him a little dose of Dreamless-Sleep Potion, so you can get your rest as well."

She looked at him for a moment, then asked quietly "Still have nightmares?"

He averted her eyes and instead looked out of the window above Malfoy's bed. "Not every night." Then after a pause he said hesitant "Can I have a look at this spell as well?... I mean...I have time – and the whole library of Hogwarts...maybe I find something..."

He looked at the medi-witch again, before his gaze wandered over to Malfoy's silent form, and then back at her.

"Yes, Harry, you can." Madam Pomfrey smiled. She knew very well, how much Harry's magic had grown in the past years and that now he had a feel for magic that was almost as sensitive as Dumbledore's had been.

Hesitating again, Harry took a step towards Malfoy's head. He carefully reached out and then closed his eyes to better concentrate on the _feeling_. His fingers hovered over Malfoy's skin, sometimes few centimetres, sometimes mere millimetres away. Though already fading, the spell was of an angry red behind his eyelids, lightly at most of the face but fiery around the eyes. The caster's pattern seemed somewhat familiar, but no name was offered him by his memory. Slowly Harry opened his eyes again and looked directly in the warm ones of the medi-witch.

"It must have hurt."

Madam Pomfrey only nodded. Then, to lighten the sullen mood, she gave him a real smile.

"I'm going now. There are other patients waiting for me. If you need me, you know where to find me. The Dreamless-Sleep Potion is the violet one on the right side of the cupboard. That one. Exactly." She added, as Harry held up a pear-shaped flask.

"Remember, only a small dose. It gets easily addictive if taken too much or too often."

And with that she left, and Harry knew quite well that her last comment wasn't only directed at how much to give Malfoy.

He turned towards the cupboard once more, this time in search of a glass for the blond and soon found one.

When he was standing at Malfoy's side again, he first didn't know how to get the potion down the former Slytherin's throat. _Couldn't people not swallow when unconscious?_

"Stupefy would definitely be easier" he grumbled.

But then he remembered something he'd seen on TV at the Dursley's. You only had to hold their noses close – or was that something different?

_Well, _he decided, _I'll just try it, and if it doesn't work, I just shake him until either he wakes up and swallows, or the stuff is out again._

Luckily for him and all others, Malfoy did swallow the potion without problems and soon was breathing the even breath of someone deeply asleep.

Feeling quite tired himself, Harry chose the bed on the opposite wall directly across from Malfoy. He didn't have any sleeping utensils with him, but was far too lazy to fetch them from his room at the other end of the castle. So he just lay down in the clothes he was wearing. Because there was no way he'd stay in one room with Malfoy without decent clothing.

From that on his thought drifted on and on, until they were caught up in the land of sleep and it seemed that for once he was too tired to even have a nightmare.

~~tbc~~


	3. Chapter 2

_Disclaimer:_ characters belong to JKR and various publishers

_Author's notes: _ I started this fic sometime after HBP and have been writing at it (more or less) since then. In my fictional world, it took Harry seven years to destroy all hocruxes, and Voldemort about the same time to gather his forces. Still I tried to fit in some facts from the seventh book. I think you will only recognize them if you know the book.

This is post-war, so Voldemort is defeated. Definitely. There are enough other things to deal with.

Thanks go, as always to my lovely Numair, who reads this even if she hates slash. *hugs*

_Chapter 2_

When Draco woke up the next morning, he firstly didn't remember anything. All he noticed was the soft linen under his hands and the warm cover over him. It had been long since he had slept in a proper bed the last time and he stayed still not daring to open his eyes in case this was all just a dream.

But then he heard two voices arguing quietly and he listened closely.

"...yes, Dobby, I know this is your former master," said the first voice, apparently the one of a male wizard about his age, and Draco thought he knew it, but being still dazed from sleep, he couldn't place it.

"...but he is ill and needs breakfast just like I do," Draco wondered who these two were talking about, but if the person was ill, he or she probably wouldn't talk. The blond listened as the man's voice continued. "I know they might have treated you badly..."

"Very badly," he heard the second, very high voice admit forcefully, before it gave a squeak and suddenly all Draco could hear was a loud banging and desperate shouting of the man: "Dobby stop! Put down the bottle! Dobby! Stop it!"

Draco's curiosity now won over the need to stay where it was comfortable, and he sat up to look at the strange couple.

...But everything was black around him.

He turned his head several times but still couldn't find any source of light.

"Hey!" he shouted a little panically, "are you some kind of earth-people? Put on some lights!"

The two other voices immediately stopped and it stayed silent for some seconds. Then the first voice spoke.

"Malfoy."

And in this one word there was so much disbelieve, worry, pity and mostly, disdain mixed together that now Draco knew exactly whom this voice belonged to. Together with this realization there came yesterday's memories and he had to fight really hard to suppress any emotion showing on his face. Instead he let out an angry hiss.

"Potter."

"Malfoy." Potter said, and this time his voice was controlled and almost polite. "How are you feeling?"

Draco just snarled. "What is it to you?"

"Well, _someone_ kind of fell in my arms yesterday, _pleading_ for help and I was stupid enough to do as he wanted to." The other man's voice had started defensively, but soon, as if they had travelled 7 years back in time, it became more and more aggressive.

"Stupid indeed. Everybody would have walked away, but Harry Potter, the saviour of the world, can't get over his complexes and has to help."

The irony was practically dripping from Draco's words.

"I have no complexes!" Potter shouted immediately back.

"Oh, of course not." Draco snapped. "So why did you help me then?"

At first the former Gryffindor had no answer to that, but then he said defensively, "You begged!"

The blond just crossed his arms in front of his chest.

"Malfoys _never_ beg! So if you now give me my wand back, then I will walk out of here and we can both forget about the whole thing."

Potter let out a hollow laugh. "Oh, really?!"

Draco didn't move a muscle so the other man continued. "No, Malfoy, I confiscated your wand."

Without even giving the other man a chance to reply, he went on. "Even if I hadn't seen your Dark Mark yet, I'd know that you were Voldemort's follower. And just because I helped you to get medical care, it doesn't mean that I trust you one second. Your wand stays in my care until you get your trial."

Now, Draco sneered. "Until I get my trial? Very noble of you, Potter. And who's going to hold the trial? The ministry's barely existing, do you really think they have time to judge over so called 'criminals' right now?"

Draco could hear the former Gryffindor gnashing his teeth.

"I don't care when how long it will take for you to get your well-earned punishment, but I can wait."

The blond let out a dry laugh. "You don't know anything about me, Potter."

Suddenly the high-pitched voice that had argued with Potter before tuned in again.

"Please, sirs, Mr. Potter, sir. Dobby has brought some breakfast, as you asked for, Mr. Potter, sir."

The realization that this voice belonged to a house-elf struck Draco like a lightning, and something about the creature's whining seemed familiar, but he could not place, not without being able to see his opponent.

Potter in the meanwhile seemed to have gotten over his tantrum, and was talking to that thing in a polite and quiet tone, so that Draco didn't understand a word. Which annoyed him a great deal, only that in contrary to other magicians in this room, he was very good at hiding what was going on in his head.

"Malfoy."

The voice coming from somewhere very close to his right side nearly gave him a heart-attack and most certainly made him flinch.

He tried to hide it by snapping at the former Gryffindor. "What?!"

But there was so much pity in Potter's voice when he answered that it was clear he had seen through the act.

"Your breakfast, Malfoy."

Draco hated him for it. There were a lot of things in his life that he didn't like, but pity was one of the things he loathed, especially when it was directed at him.

"I'm not hungry." he said in a tone that made water freeze.

"You're ill. You should eat."

Somehow Potter's voice was coloured with even more pity and Draco could practically see him with the same look Dumbledore had given him on more than one occasion. It irritated the hell out of him.

"I'm. Not. Hungry." he repeated in a dangerously calm voice.

Suddenly a plate was shoved forcefully onto his belly.

"You know what? Fuck you, Malfoy!" and the sound of angry footsteps followed by the bang of a door announced Potter's departure.

Draco was so astonished, he stayed unmoving for some seconds, then he shook his head and said with a half smile. "His temper hasn't changed a bit."

"Oh, it most definitely has." The house-elf spoke up, clearly disobeying every good house-elf's law. Additionally it also gave Draco the second fright in about a minute which was definitely too much. He did not like this elf and he itched for his wand to give it a proper punishment. But Potter had taken it with him, so he was left with nothing but glaring. He did glare in the general direction the voice had last spoken from, but was once again surprised when the house-elf spoke from the other side of the bed.

"Master Malfoy should eat!"

It seemed to move around the room, when Draco concentrated, he could even hear the creature's bare feet padding on the ground. He soon got tired of concentrating though, and because he didn't like to be surprised again, he started a conversation with the elf.

"Why do you call me 'Master'?"

There was a moment when the creature seemed to struggle with a proper answer, but then maybe it was just too stupid to understand anything that wasn't a direct order.

It did answer after a second though. "Master Malfoy is Dobby's former master, so Dobby keeps talking and thinking about him as a master, if he doesn't pay enough attention. If master wishes, Dobby will call him 'Mister Malfoy' from now on."

The carefully polite voice piqued Draco's attention. He couldn't recall any house-elf leaving the Malfoy household except for the ...casualties. But the house-elves had been his father's business and even after he had been sent to prison, Draco had never cared to learn any house-elf's name or face, as long as everything was tidy.

"You worked for the Malfoys?" the former Slytherin asked. His tone was polite, because he was curious, and, if he was true to himself, he didn't want to stay in the darkness all alone.

"Dobby did." The house-elf still wasn't sure what to think of the situation.

"And where do you work now?" Draco could almost see Lucius turning in his grave. His son doing polite conversation with a house-elf! He almost smiled at the thought.

"Dobby works in Hogwarts now." and then with a little more force he added, "Since Mister Harry Potter freed him, he does."

Draco now really laughed out loud. It was so much like Potter to sneak into Malfoy Manor to free one of house-elves of their 'terrible' fate.

"Tell me!" he said in between two fits of laughter. "Tell me how he did it."

The house-elf seemed to think about it, but after a moment it answered in a sly tone.

"Dobby will - but only if Master Malfoy eats his breakfast."

When Harry, driven by his bad conscience, walked into the Hospital Wing an hour later, he was greeted by a very strange sight. Dobby was sitting on one of the bedposts at the feet of Malfoy's bed and they were in deep conversation. The former Gryffindor stopped in the shadow of the door and silently watched the two of them. Dobby seemed relaxed in the company of his former master, much more than he was when Harry was around. And Draco Malfoy, who he had always thought to respect nothing but pure-blooded wizards had his attention fixed completely on the small house-elf, his head bent, so his left ear was turned towards the creature, his face completely unguarded and showing all emotions openly. Suddenly Dobby apparently said something funny, because Malfoy threw his head back and started to laugh.

Harry found himself wondering what they were laughing about and wanting to join, but then he reminded himself that this was a Death Eater and that he should feel no positive feeling whatsoever for him. So with a forceful stride he walked towards the bed on which the two of them were sitting.

With a squeak Dobby jumped of the bed and started babbling excuses and something about Malfoy's breakfast, but Harry didn't listen to him.

"Malfoy.", he said putting as much disdain in his voice as he could muster.

Malfoy's expression had gone from open to guarded the second he had heard footsteps.

"Potter," he said in mock-politeness, "I already thought that it had been your soft footsteps approaching."

Harry ignored his comment and continued in an even voice.

"I'm going to get Madam Pomfrey, so she can do a proper check-through, now you're awake."

"I already told you, I'm perfectly fine and do not need anyone's help." the blond tried to interfere, but Harry had turned his attention towards the house-elf that was shrinking into a corner fearing punishment.

"Dobby, keep an eye on him, as long as I'm away. I won't be long, so don't worry!"

And then he turned and went to the fire this time completely vanishing in it, leaving behind a shivering house-elf and an angry Malfoy.

When Harry arrived at St Mungo's at had dusted off most of the ash, he was immediately greeted by the same receptionist that had been there the day before.

"Hello, Mr. Potter. How's your cold?"

The former Gryffindor looked at her for a moment dumbfolded. But then he realized that this had been Mme Pomfrey's excuse for him and a wave of gratefulness washed over him. You could rely on the medi-witch to keep any secret whatsoever.

He gave the young witch a smile. "Oh, thank you, it's much better. I just wanted to ask Mme Pomfrey one more favour, so if you could please call her?"

"Of course, Mr. Potter, just give me a second."

This time it took Hogwarts' medi-witch longer to get to Harry, which was most probably because she didn't come in a stampede. She still walked quite fast, but Harry figured that this was just one more thing she had learned to do when caring for more than one patient in the hospital wing. When she arrived, she gave the dark haired wizard a concerned look that was quickly covered with a smile, when she noticed that the receptionist had caught up with her.

"Cassy said you have a favour to ask?" she inclined.

"Yes Ma'am.", Harry said blandly, "I dropped the glass with the potion I had to drink this morning, and I can't remember which vial you took it from." A few years ago, the pure thought of such an air-gripped story would have made him blush and stutter, but war taught a lot of things, and lying had been among those for Harry. He gave the two witches an apologizing smile, which the receptionist returned while Mme Pomfrey didn't bat an eyelid.

"I'll come over and pour you another glass myself." she said, playing along by rolling her eyes.

Harry gave her a grateful smile. "Thank you, Mme Pomfrey. I'll go ahead." _And see that Malfoy still hasn't murdered anyone or anything, _he added to himself.

But the former Slytherin hadn't. On contrary he was still sitting on his bed tense as a bow.

"Malfoy.", Harry greeted him, and at the sound of his cold voice the blond relaxed even if it was just for a fraction. Then a second _swush_ from the fireplace announced Mme Pomfrey's arrival and he tensed again.

The medi-witch cleaned herself and then went over to her patient. "Mr. Malfoy! I see you are awake, now. How are you feeling?"

Malfoy cocked his head and still tense asked one question.

"Mme Pomfrey?"

Before the witch had the chance to answer, Harry snorted. "What did you expect? An auror squad?"

Malfoy just glared in the other man's general direction and the nurse gave him a stern look before turning back to her patient. "It is me, Mr. Malfoy." She said quietly, then she repeated her question. "How are you feeling?"

The former Slytherin sat up straight and formed his face into a blank mask. "I'm perfectly fine, Mme Pomfrey."

The medi-witch gave him a no-nonsense stare, and then with so much sarcasm, it would have made Snape proud, she said, "Of course."

Malfoy still tried to keep it up. "Madam, with all due respect, I'm really fine. The spell, or whatever it was, will soon wear off, and then I will be able to walk out here again. I don't need your help."

Harry refrained himself from snorting, because he knew, the nurse wouldn't take it well. She had already put her hands on her hips and looked down at the blond crossly.

"Mr. Malfoy, I will say this just once. You are _not _well. Whatever magic hit you, it severed your nerves for sight. Permanently."

And at these words, Malfoy', who had kept upright the whole time since he woke up this morning, bend his back in defeat and his blank mask fractured to show total despair on the man's face. For a moment he just stared in space, but then he put his face into his hands and his whole body began to shake in silent sobs. Neither Mme Pomfrey nor Harry said a word. After a while the blond regained some of his posture. He looked up towards the medi-witch.

"Is there any way to heal it?"

The nurse's voice was soft when she answered him. "I have never seen anything like it, and all of my colleagues, I had the chance to ask yesterday, didn't know anything as well. But you mustn't give up hope, Mr. Malfoy. Quite often there _is _a way to heal it and it has just been forgotten over time, " after a little pause she added. "or it just has to be invented yet. Anyway, you will see, just have a little patience and it will be alright again." The last sentence was forceful, more like an incantation than a promise. "And now, if you let me, I'd like to do some more examinations."

Malfoy just nodded and for a moment all that could be heard were the nurse's quiet incarnations and questions, which the blond with a just as quiet voice. Then the witch stood up straight, and said in what Harry called her 'room-voice' now, "Well apart from your blindness, you are quite fine, Mr. Malfoy. I suppose you would do better with a little more sleep than usually, but apart from that you should require nothing. I'm sure Mr. Potter will be there whenever you need something."

"What?!" The exclamation came from both wizards' mouths, but it was Harry who continued first. "Mme Pomfrey, you can't be serious! I have enough to do without looking after a Death Eater."

Malfoy snorted. "I don't need the Hero of the Wizarding World to watch me like a little child. I'm perfectly capable to take care of myself."

Harry interrupted him before he could say more. "Oh, yes, of course! That's why you fell into my arms yesterday, right?"

"You seem to have liked holding me very much, because you keep bringing it up again and again."

The dark haired let out a dry laugh. "You wish, Malfoy. There is nothing I like less than touching you, apart from being in the same room with you."

Malfoy didn't back down. "Oh really? So tell me, why are you still here? I already told you, I don't need your help."

"_ENOUGH!" _Mme Pomfrey shouted, hands on her hips and if looks could kill then she would have to deal with two less patients the rest of her live. "I have not the time to deal with the childish behaviour of yours. There are other, much more critical patients waiting for me." She turned to Harry and pierced him with a look. "You Mr. Potter wanted to help, so now you do it. Keep an eye on him all the time until he learns to find his way around by himself. Is that understood?!"

Harry felt and answered like a schoolboy after this tirade. "Yes, but..."

He was cut off again, because now Mme Pomfrey had turned towards the other wizard, who was shrinking with every word she directed at him. "And you, Mr. Malfoy, will keep it down as well. I've had enough of you since that little scratch on your arm in your third year! You are my patient that is well alright, but I will not hear any complains!" Then she added in a far more calmer and caring tone. "I understand what you must be going through and I promise to do my best to help and find a cure." Her voice got sharp again. "But only if you can keep a hold onto yourself."

Malfoy kept his head bent. "Yes, Mme Pomfrey."

The witch nodded. "Good. If you excuse me now..."

She was almost at the fireplace when Harry stopped her. "Mme Pomfrey!" The witch turned around, waiting.

"I-I", he started, once again feeling like a schoolboy. He cleared his throat. "I have to prepare my lessons and I can't do it here. I cannot take care of him, not the whole day."

The nurse's face had become clouded again. "Enough of this childish chatter. Take him to your rooms, for all I care. And I don't want to hear another word." And with some forceful strides she stomped towards the fireplace and was gone in seconds.

After her departure the hospital wing was quiet for some seconds.

Then Potter mumbled something that sounded very much like "I guess it can't be helped." before he raised his voice again.

"Well then, let's go! The sooner I get you there the earlier I get my peace again."

Draco carefully got up and took some time to let his feet get used to his weight again. Then he waited for Potter to take his arm to lead him to their destination, but instead that idiot started to walk away.

"Hey!" The blond shouted angrily.

"What?" the other man sounded almost surprised.

"Aren't you going to lead me to your quarters?"

"Er - yes?" Draco could practically see Potter's stupid, bewildered face.

"Come on!" he exclaimed. "You're not hinting that I'm to follow the sound of your footsteps?!"

The following silence was answer enough, so Draco just held out his hand. When the dark haired still didn't move, the ex-Death Eater got angry.

"It's not as if I had some kind of disease! And I'm not going to bite you either. Just grab my hand, place it on your stupid elbow and get the hell going!"

Again Potter hesitated for some seconds, but then he finally reached out and did as instructed. After the first few awkward steps, they fell into a rhythm, Draco half a step behind the other man, trying to remember how often they turned into which direction. After the fourth - or fifth? - corner he gave up though, concentrating more on where to put his feet as he had almost fallen over a carpet.

When Scarface even remembered to warn him in front the stairs, Draco decided to grace him again with a little bit of conversation.

"See? It's not that bad! With your behaviour earlier, one could almost get the impression that you are afraid of human contact!"

Potter's answer came a bit too fast. "I'm not!"

The blond stopped immediately and turned to face the former Gryffindor. "You are not!"

"No, I'm not." Potter seemed a bit hesitant. "It's just that I don't like it, really."

Draco closed his eyes theatrically and turned towards their original direction again. "Okay, I don't want to hear more. How disturbed can one person be? Just keep going. I want to reach that room of yours before bed time!"

"We're almost there."

And they really were as after another corner Potter stopped and turned around 90°.

"We're there. It's actually password-protected, but I'm going to change it into a thought-protected one, so nobody but the two of us can enter without permission."

He did neither explain what thought-protected really meant nor did he say the password out loud, but still the door in front of them opened with a small creak and let Draco in to the place that from now on would be his home.

When he entered the room he could at once hear and smell the crackling fire the house-elves must have lit against the chill of the evening. With a little more concentration he could also make out the scent of old wood and paper, and another one that seemed familiar, but he couldn't quite name yet.

Potter had stood next to him unmoving and given him time to adjust to this new place. Now something in Draco's face had apparently told him that the blond had finished and so he moved his elbow a little.

"Coming?"

Draco nodded and let the man lead him through the first room which was probably the living room into another one that also had a fire burning and smelled much the same, only less of old paper and more of that unidentified smell, the blond had already noticed before. It wasn't intense or even bad, more underlining and somehow it smelled nice and comfortable.

"Ok, give me a second," the dark haired pulled him out of his thoughts, "I'll only transform the sofa into a second bed, so you have something proper to lie on."

This seemed to be one of the things Potter couldn't do without a wand and so Draco let go and for the first time in his life listened to a transforming spell work, in contrary to seeing it, which made the whole thing new and very different.

"Well, Her...- I mean, it's probably not what you are used from home," the former Gryffindor commented his work, "but it should be comfortable enough."

"Potter, it's been years since I've been at Malfoy's Manor. I heard after your rally, the protection spells there have gone mad and I definitely don't want to be the first try to sort these things out."

"Well..." the other wizard almost sounded as if he wouldn't mind being the first to go into a mad manor. But he didn't dig further and only took Draco's hand again and led him to his new bed.

"So," he explained, "this is where you sleep. The bathroom is just next to the feet of your bed. The toilet is on the left wall just behind the sink. On the other wall is the bathtub. In here there is my bed parallel to yours, in between there's a nightstand, you can use it if you want to. To the feet of my bed there's a trunk and on the wall a cupboard. The trunk is secured, so don't even try to open it, but the cupboard is free for you to use."

Draco, who had listened carefully, now drew a face. "Potter, I don't _have_ anything to put into a cupboard! And even if I got a bit used to this state through the last years and don't particularly like it."

"If you think," Potter interrupted, "that I'm going to buy something for or even with you, you better forget this at once! And now, if you excuse me, I've got work to do." And with the bang of a door the wizard was out of the room.

"But I don't excuse you!" shouted Draco after him, but that bugger had probably put a Silencio on that door. "Fuck! I hate having nothing and I hate this room, and I hate being blind and I absolutely hate hate Potter!"

The blond let himself fall back onto the bed in frustration. "I really hate him. Even if he can make comfortable beds."

~~tbc~~


End file.
